


bloody knuckles and hurt souls

by meils121



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Childhood Memories, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: They have a ritual.  It’s been this way for years - decades, maybe longer, depending on how you count the years.  Steve says it started because Bucky is too overprotective for his own good.  Bucky says it started because Steve was a stubborn beanpole of a kid who grew up into a stubborn asshole of an adult.  Steve then says it started because Bucky is an asshole himself, and maybe things get a little off-track after that.





	bloody knuckles and hurt souls

            They have a ritual.  It’s been this way for years - decades, maybe longer, depending on how you count the years.  Steve says it started because Bucky is too overprotective for his own good.  Bucky says it started because Steve was a stubborn beanpole of a kid who grew up into a stubborn asshole of an adult.  Steve then says it started because Bucky is an asshole himself, and maybe things get a little off-track after that.

            Either way, they have a way of doing things.  They always have, always will.  They’re soldiers, after all.  They take comfort in schedules and orders, in knowing exactly how something will be done.  This is just their version of a debrief.  

            It starts when they are kids, an innocent version that has Bucky inspecting Steve for any bad cuts or nasty bruises, things that his mama would worry about.  Bucky knows Sarah Rogers well enough to know that she wouldn’t take kindly to anyone hurting her son, even if Steve instigates half the fights.  

            But Steve is Steve.  He corners Bucky one day after he beats up some kid bullying a group of girls, and carefully mops up the blood on Bucky’s knuckles.  “So your mama doesn’t worry.”  He says.  

            And Bucky’s mama is used to him getting in fights, but Bucky doesn’t say anything because this feels important.

            It changes when they’re teenagers.  They know by now, know that they aren’t quite like everyone else.  Steve is more honest about it than Bucky, but then Steve always was the more honest of the pair of them.  Everyone in the neighborhood knew that.  Bucky was the charmer.  He could convince anyone of anything, and he spent several years charming one dame after the next off their feet.  He took Mary Ann to the big dance that year.  Steve watched from the side of the room, politely turning down the few offers he got to dance.  People liked Bucky, but they felt sorry for Steve.  That was okay, though, because right now, Steve felt sorry for Bucky, sorry that they couldn’t just do what they wanted and sorry that Bucky had to be the one to pretend while Steve could just use one illness or another to cover it up.

            The first time they get in a bad spot about being gay is after a trip down to one of those bars that good Catholic boys like Steve aren’t supposed to know about.  But Steve knows plenty of things, like how to make those doe eyes that have Bucky saying yes to anything.  

            Inside Bucky feels more at home than he has in a long time, even if he’s scared to death of what happens if anyone finds out.  Steve doesn’t seem to care, though, because he tucks himself right up under Bucky’s arm when a guy tries buying Steve a drink.

            “I’m taken.”  Steve says, and Bucky knows that half the eyes in the room are on them in that moment.  He puffs up with pride, slides his hand so it’s resting possessively on Steve’s hipbone.  Tells the room that Steve is his.  

            They’re tipsy and not careful enough leaving, and they run into a group of men who don’t take kindly to the sort of behavior that Steve and Bucky are displaying.  Namely, kissing each other silly.

            Bucky comes to in an alley of Brooklyn that he’s somehow not familiar with.  Steve is kneeling in a puddle at Bucky’s side, poking at a painful spot on Bucky’s head.  

            “What’re you doing?”  Bucky slurs out.  

            “Makin’ it so we don’t attract any more attention than we have already.”  Steve says.

            “Where’d they go?”

            Steve shrugs.  “Away.”  He says, and if Bucky didn’t know any better, he might think that Steve had personally dispatched each one.  As it is, he figures they got lucky that the men only wanted to knock them around a little bit and not hurt them too badly.  

            “Stevie-”  Bucky says.  He stops, takes a breath, and tries again.  “Stevie, I’m sorry.”

            Steve finishes doing whatever the hell he’s doing to Bucky’s face and pulls away slightly.  “For what?  Kissing me?  I wanted you to do that.”

            “Not that.”  Bucky says.  “I mean, yes for that, but I’m not sorry about kissin’ you.  I’m sorry we got beat up for it.”

            Steve shrugs again.  “Maybe one day, we won’t.”  He says, and Bucky’s not that hopeful, but he doesn’t say anything because he’s never going to hurt Steve’s optimism.  “Come on.  We gotta get in clothes that aren’t bloody before your sister gets home.”

            Bucky gets drafted a few short years later.  The night before he leaves, he wraps his arms around Steve’s skinny frame and wishes that he had more time.  Steve’s sleeping, probably the last time he’ll sleep soundly for weeks.  Bucky presses a kiss against the back of Steve’s head and tries not to think that this is the last time they’ll be together.  But he’s seen the photos in the newspaper and he doesn’t expect to come back from the war.

            Life as a soldier is different, periods of nothing with sudden bursts of _excitement - adrenaline - terror._ Bucky gets used to bandaging his own wounds up, even if every time he thinks of Steve’s gentle hands skimming across his skin and carefully wrapping up a cut.  Thinks of the ghost of Steve’s breath as he leans over Bucky and kisses him and tells him to be more careful next time, even if that’s the most hypocritical thing Bucky’s ever heard in his life.

            He gets captured, taken into a base hidden far behind enemy lines, and he’s in more pain than he thought possible for a human body to endure.  He’s not sure how Steve shows up, taller and muscular and all around _more_ , but he’s not about to argue.  

            That night, in the tenuous safety of a canvas tent, Steve catalogues each and every one of Bucky’s injuries.  He may be stronger now, but his hands are just as gentle as Bucky remembers.  And even if neither of them is quite brave enough to steal a kiss - not in the middle of a war, not around so many people - Steve’s touch is enough to reassure Bucky that his best guy is still his best guy.  

            They grow used to being around each other again.  Bucky stays by Steve’s side through one dangerous mission after another, and sometimes he’s the one patching up Steve and sometimes it’s the other way around.  

            When Bucky falls, his last thought is that even Steve won’t be able to put him back together.

            Of course, it isn’t Steve who puts him back together.  It’s Hydra, harsh and painful and purposefully cruel.  Bucky thinks of Steve and tries not to fall apart.  It’s too late, though, because Hydra breaks him into a million pieces and locks them all up in separate safes.  Bucky will spend the next few decades trying to find them all.  

            The Winter Soldier doesn’t think about injuries.  He follows orders, tracks down the targets, and suffers through the pain of freezing and unfreezing and freezing again.  Sometimes, there’s a thought hidden far back in his mind, trying to get free, a thought that says there’s something missing, but it’s easier not to chase after those thoughts.  They only cause more confusion and pain.

            But then the Winter Soldier sees the man on the bridge.  He gets beaten for his questions.  That’s okay.  It helps clear his head.  

            “Bucky.”  The man is desperate, and the Winter Soldier can’t figure out why.  He doesn’t know, doesn’t know _anything_ anymore, until the man says something that he hasn’t heard in decades.

            It takes a few months to go from Winter Soldier to - not Bucky, not yet, but to feeling a little more like a person again.  It’s been so long that Bucky doesn’t know exactly how to function.  He fights Steve for months, tells him that he doesn’t deserve to be found and brought home and loved.  He sees the way Steve’s face drops.  He pretends not to notice.

            He gets attacked one day by a group of Hydra agents who haven’t been taken out yet.  He fights them off but at a cost.  He bandages himself up in a dingy bathroom in the back of a curry restaurant.  For the first time, he thinks of Steve’s touch.  

            It’s overwhelming.  All around just too much.  Bucky sinks to the ground, sitting in dirt and blood and wondering if Steve remembers.  He’s done his research.  He knows how Steve is still around.  He knows that being frozen does things to your head, or maybe it’s just when Hydra does it that it screws everything up.

            “There you are.”  Steve says, and Bucky is confused.  

            “How?”  He asks as Steve kneels on the floor next to him.  

            “Been tracking you.”  Steve answers, like that’s a normal thing for him to do.  “We were supposed to take down a Hydra cell.  Looks like you took care of them for us.”

            Bucky just nods.  Talking hurts.  Steve gets it though, and he takes over.  His hands are just as gentle as Bucky remembers, even if that memory is so old he’s not even sure if it’s real.  But Steve is real.  He mops up the blood and puts some Stark-branded shit on Bucky’s injuries that Bucky thinks are hi-tech bandages.  He finishes and pulls away.

            “You coming back with me this time?”  He asks, like he’s been asking for a while now.  Bucky pauses.  Steve’s eyes are tired and hurt.  He doesn’t like that look.  

            “Your friends aren’t going to kill me, are they?”

            Steve manages a half-smile, even though Bucky wasn’t exactly joking.  “They - they get it.  Mostly.  They’ll come around.”

            It’s not the most encouraging thing Bucky’s ever heard, but he’s tired of running.  So he lets Steve lead him out of the bathroom.

            It takes a long time for Bucky to adjust to living with Steve.  He keeps getting back his memory in pieces, and for the longest time he feels like something is missing.  He catches Steve sometimes, watching him with what Bucky thinks is longing.  But he gives Bucky his space, until Bucky decides he doesn’t want space anymore.  He may not remember everything, but he remembers nights curled up in bed together.  Cold winter nights when the only heat they have is each other.  Hot summer nights when Steve sprawls out on the bed and takes up more room than someone that size should.  He remembers, and he tells Steve.

Steve gets all quiet for a minute, and Bucky understands that it was longing Steve was looking at him with, not just longing for what used to be but what could be.  And Bucky isn’t great at words - not anymore - so he crawls into bed with Steve and kisses him on the cheek and waits for Steve to say something.

“I’m here, Buck.”  Steve says finally, pulling Bucky into a tight hug.  “I’ll always be here for you.”

And for just a little while, Bucky can pretend that things are okay.  

            Things change when Steve gets called away on a mission that takes a couple of weeks.  Bucky doesn’t like being alone, not even for a few minutes, but Steve promises things will be okay and he’ll call whenever possible and that Bucky can do this.

            But Bucky can’t do this.  He wakes up every night in cold sweats.  He spends hours pacing the length of their apartment, going from their bedroom to the empty room where he used to sleep to the living room to the kitchen and back again.  He watches TV until the early hours of the morning when all that’s on are random TV preachers and infomercials.  He tries cooking, but that ends badly.  He tries sleeping again, only to wake up screaming with yet another nightmare.  

            Steve returns late one night.  Bucky’s up, because he really hasn’t slept more than a couple hours at a time since Steve left.  So he sees how Steve is stumbling a little, how he’s holding his side all gingerly.  And - and he remembers.

            He’s acting on pure instinct.  He guides Steve into the bathroom and gets him to sit down on the closed toilet lid.  Steve gives him a tired smile.  “Missed you.”  He says.  

            “Don’t leave again.”  Bucky says, even if he knows that’s too much to ask of Steve.  “Not anytime soon, okay?”

            “Yeah.”  Steve agrees.  

            “What happened?”

            Steve seems to register his injuries for the first time since he arrived home.  He’s got a convoluted story about Hydra agents and jumping out of a six story building and -

            Bucky finally just stops him.  He helps Steve peel out of his suit and carefully starts cataloguing each of Steve’s injuries.  He’s got bruised knuckles - no surprise there - and a nasty bump on his head and a gash that winds around his side.  Nothing’s that too concerning, not with Steve’s healing powers, but it’s enough that Bucky sucks in a breath at the sight.  

            “Remember this?”  Steve asks.  “You used to clean me up everytime I got in a fight.”

            Bucky snorts.  “Couple of times I’d get you all cleaned up and you’d just go start another one.”  

            “I wasn’t that bad.”  Steve protests, but he’s smiling.  Bucky’s smiling too, he realizes.  

            Bucky rinses out the wound and bandages it.  He falls back into that routine they’ve had for so long.  It relaxes him.  He can feel the tension start to bleed out of his shoulders.  

            Steve notices.  “Come on.”  He says, rising to his feet once Bucky’s done bandaging the gash.  “You need sleep.”

            Bucky’s only too willing to follow Steve into the bedroom and curl up under the covers.  Steve wraps himself around Bucky.  And Bucky - Bucky sleeps all night for the first time in a long time.  He wakes up alone in bed, but he can smell bacon cooking from the other room.

            “Morning.”  Steve says.  He’s got a big smile on his face that Bucky can’t help but return.  “How’re you feeling?”

            And Bucky should probably be the one asking Steve that, but that’s okay.  “Good.”  He says.  “I’m remembering.  Good things.”  Steve knows what that means, knows that all too often that the memories Bucky gets back are bad ones, full of violence and anger and hurt.  Not now, though.  He’s remembering the things he and Steve used to get up to, all that time ago.  

            Steve grins at him.  “I’m happy for you.”  

            “I’m happy for us.”  Bucky replies, and Steve’s smile widens.  

            Bucky’s not healed, he’s not better.  Not yet, maybe not ever.  But he found something else to hold onto, and that’s enough to give him hope right now.  

 


End file.
